A/N: And so begins my foray into Mass Effect 2. I have to admit, for as long as I have been planning this chapter, I have yet to establish a set outline for how things are going to go. As such, I'm not quite sure how this piece will end up. Any feedback will be more than appreciated, and I promise not to let this run wild.

Also, I'm assuming that since most of "my" readers run in the same circle, and therefore you all must be reading "Odyssey" by Bebus and "Glacial Fire" by owelpost. If not, go there now. Seriously.

Lastly, although I'm sure you are mostly FemShep/Liara fans, I would be remiss if I didn't also recommend two other pieces: "Legacy" by alliedforces74 and "Memoirs" by Sharrukin. Both are BroShep/Liara pairings, but definitely worth the read if you're looking for something a little different.

Oh, and one more thing: Dr. Jekyl is KILLING the kmeme right now with "That Which Was Lost". It's ridiculously good.

Prologue: Spectre, Interrupted

They had barely said hello

and it was time

To say goodbye

Shepard was drenched in sweat. The unruly mop of curls on her head were now heavy and thick, and stuck uncomfortably to her forehead. Her lungs burned and her legs ached, but she pressed forward, swallowing ragged gasps of air. She ducked, pivoted on one leg, then launched herself into the air. Just as she reached the apex of her jump, she flicked her wrist, then began to fall backwards.

The basketball sailed over Adams' outstretched hand in a perfect arc, and fell squarely through the hoop with a satisfying swoosh.

Ashley let out a triumphant whoop. "How many times are you gonna let her beat you on that fadaway, Adams?"

Adams grumbled under his breath, but Shepard only managed a thin smile as she jogged over to the other end of the cargo bay, just past the right rear wheel of the Mako that delineated the half court line. Shepard had always wanted a basketball court in the bay; the idea had come to her on a particularly restless evening when she found herself cursing the lack of any decent recreational facilities her ship. She latched onto the notion with a remarkable tenacity, and finally saw her opportunity when the Normandy was in drydock at the Citadel, undergoing several refits after her battle with Sovereign. All it took were a few extra credits from her generous Spectre allowance, deposited into a few key accounts, and the retractable hoops had been installed overnight. Shepard herself had painted the free throw line and three point arc that same night in an excited frenzy. While the bay wasn't exactly large enough to accommodate a full sized court, there was still enough room to allow for a formidable workout, especially against some of the more athletically gifted members of the crew.

Engineer Adams, in particular, had proven to be a rather feisty competitor, and had become an irritating thorn in the commander's side. He was surprisingly lithe and graceful despite his blocky frame, and although Shepard was quicker and had a far superior jump shot, he somehow always managed to match her point for point whenever they played. No matter how casually they began, their weekly shoot-a-rounds always devolved into flat-out brawls that often sucked in other members of the Normandy's crew. Ashley, never one to turn down some friendly violence, had taken to the contests immediately. Some, like poor Private Eli Fredricks, got drafted.

Ashley hunkered down into a defensive squat, tugging impatiently at her oversized shorts and wearing a feral grin as Fredricks slowly began bringing the ball up court. Although the lanky marine had several centimeters on the gunnery chief, he looked for all the world like he wanted nothing do with Ashley, this game, and generally life itself. He soon began looking to pass, glancing furtively at Adams, who kept trying to break free from Shepard's smothering defense. Ashley started pestering him, alternating between swiping at the ball and waving her arms to obstruct his view. The commander gritted her teeth as she and Adams jostled for position under the basket, unapologetically jabbing elbows into each others' sides. Shepard fought to conceal her grimace each time the engineer bumped against the thick black brace clamped around her left knee.

"For fuck's sake, Private! Just because we don't have a shot clock doesn't mean you can just stand there!" Shepard barked.

Finally goaded into action, Fredricks made a move to the basket, Ashley on his heels. She stayed on his hip, preventing the private from driving as forcefully as he wanted to. He pulled up awkwardly and released an off balance shot that somehow wobbled through the air. The ball, unsurprisingly, clanged loudly off the rim. Adams leapt for the rebound, twisting his torso in midair, effectively boxing out the shorter commander. He landed, pumped once to fake the shot, then went up again for an easy lay up. Shepard matched his movements, launching herself at the basket at the same time Adams did. As soon as he released the ball, Shepard slapped it away, sending it sailing into the wall with a resounding slam.

The whistle blew before Shepard even landed. She whirled around to glare at the source of the sound. Tali and Garrus sat on several cargo containers, watching the game in obvious amusement. "Foul!" the quarian announced giddily.

"What the hell for?" Shepard waved her arms in protest.

"Um..." Tali activated her omni tool and began scrolling through the display. "Over-the-back! No, wait - pushing. You definitely pushed him."

"I didn't even touch him!" Shepard turned to Adams. "I didn't push you, did I?"

Adams just shook his head with a wry grin. "Hell, Shepard, you push me every time we play."

"Oh, come on." Shepard looked at Garrus for help, who was sitting silently next to Tali, a gleaming piece of metal between his mandibles. "Seriously?"

Garrus shrugged, then took the whistle out of his mouth. "Don't look at me. I'm just in charge of the whistle."

Shepard threw her hands in the air. "This is bullshit!" she proclaimed.

Tali elbowed Garrus, who dutifully blew the whistle again.

"Now what?!" Shepard was practically screeching.

"Technical foul. For being a bosh'tet," Tali answered. She then glanced over at Garrus, and he nodded in agreement. Shepard was sure the quarian was grinning wildly behind her mask. The commander opened her mouth to complain again, her hands balled tightly into fists, when Ashley swiftly intervened.

"Alright, Tali, let's stop before Skipper gives herself a stroke." The chief placed both hands on Shepard's shoulders and began steering her away from Tali. "Besides, Adams and I need to clean up before we're back on duty."

Tali hopped off the crate excitedly, obviously remembering a previous engagement. "Do you still need help with that core diagnostic, Greg?" She fell into step beside the engineer, and they immediately became enthralled in the details of their upcoming project. Garrus tossed a wave in Shepard's direction and followed Tali and Adams out of the bay, grinning around the whistle still hanging out of his mouth. Fredricks immediately bolted to the door, grateful at being released from the abuse heaped on him by his commanding officer.

"Coming, Skip?" Ashley lingered at the entrance, looking back at Shepard with a curious expression.

Shepard nodded as she went to retrieve the sweatshirt hanging over the armory workbench. "Go ahead. I'll be along in a minute."

The door hissed shut and Shepard was left alone in the bay. She sighed heavily and ran both hands through her damp hair before clasping them on top of her head. She felt pent up and frustrated, and recognized that none of that had to do with the basketball game. Her hands fell to her hips, and she looked down at her leg.

Even though the brace was designed to be lightweight and unobtrusive, Shepard hated wearing it. It seemed to slow her reaction time and made her feel lethargic; although she had been medically cleared to return to full duty weeks ago, she was convinced she was still at least half a step behind her crew while on away missions. And no matter how often or loudly she complained, Chakwas had refused to lift the restriction for at least another month.

Her jaw tensed. Shepard reached down and unclasped the brace, tossing it carelessly on the workbench. She carefully flexed her leg back and forth, testing the joint, then placed her foot on the deck and bounced lightly on her toe. Satisfied, she crouched down into a half-sprinters stance, then took off running to the other side of the court. She barely slowed when she reached the opposite end, instead digging the soles of her shoes into the deck and bending low to brush the tips of her fingers against the painted baseline. Her body shifted forward, and she pushed off from her injured knee to sprint back. She repeated the sequence as she returned to the workbench, digging in her heels and dipping down to touch the ground. This time, when she planted her foot and prepared to surge forward, her leg buckled.

Shepard crumpled to the deck, choking back a cry as searing pain lanced through her leg. She rolled onto her back, breathing sharply through clenched teeth as she brought her leg up and clutched her knee. She laid there for a long moment, grimacing until the pain subsided enough so she could flex her leg again.

The side of her fist slammed into the deck with a sudden ferocity, the impact echoing through the cold, cavernous bay and shaking the metal beneath her. She followed that with an explosive curse, then clasped her hands over her face, and fought against the tremors coursing through her body.

Shepard felt her even before the door to the bay opened. The sensation was like a cool breeze, or a gentle wave, or any number of trite metaphors one could imagine. Shepard had long ago given up describing the feeling; it was just there, and despite the relatively short time she since became aware of its existence, it was now as natural as breathing. She was both amazed and frightened at how much the bond had strengthened in the past two months.

Shepard listened to the door open and close, then heard the sound of her approach. The steps were even, measured, and somehow impossibly delicate even though she was wearing the standard issue combat boots. The steps came to rest next to her, but Shepard kept her eyes closed until she heard her speak.

"You are pushing yourself too hard, Evan."

Shepard looked up into a pair of ocean blue eyes, wide and expressive, and full of concern. Liara smiled slightly, offering her hand. The commander let out a long breath, then allowed herself to be pulled up. Liara grasped Shepard's shoulder as the human gingerly tested her knee before setting her full weight on the leg.

"You know you are supposed to wear that for at least three more weeks," Liara sighed.

Shepard looked away, grumbling under her breath. "And you know that I hate the damn thing."

The asari fell silent, and Shepard shifted under the powerful yet gentle gaze. As with their bond, Liara's uncanny ability to see right through her had only increased in the time they spent together. Liara's hand moved from her shoulder, sliding lightly up Shepard's neck until her thumb brushed against the curve of the human's ear. "This is about more than just your knee," she said quietly.

Shepard exploded, finally putting words to the aching, clawing feeling that had been consuming her. "I'm sick of this shit! The Council, the Alliance - all of it! I'm sick of dealing with idiots with their heads stuck so far up their asses they haven't seen sunshine in decades. Sending us out here to pop tin cans like they're the real problem. It's a waste of our fucking time. Four days we've been in this sector. Four damn days!" Shepard huffed in anger, jaw twitching maniacally, but she didn't move away from Liara's touch. "I'm sick and tired of being fucking ignored, Li." She put her hands on her hips and looked away, eyes dark and flinty as she glared helplessly at a random spot on the wall.

"I know." Liara's voice was soothing, but there was an underlying steeliness that kept her words from dissolving into mere platitudes. "I guarantee that everyone else is just as frustrated as you are. But you cannot give up. They will listen to us, eventually. They have to." She lightly ran her fingertips through the short hairs behind Shepard's ear, then let her hand fall.

Shepard returned her gaze to Liara, and couldn't stop her eyes from raking unabashedly over her lover's body. And what remained of her anger had rather suddenly been funneled towards the pursuit of a different objective. She found herself wondering yet again how Liara managed to make the standard Alliance science tunic look so damn enticing. Her mind, in a colossally adolescent betrayal, immediately pictured that tunic on the floor of her cabin. Liara clearly saw the flash of hunger in Shepard's eyes, as she inclined her chin slightly and arched a brow in a silent challenge. The commander glanced around briefly, ensuring that they were alone, then pulled Liara into a heated kiss.

Shepard suspected she would always be amazed at her reaction to the asari. The delicately sweet taste of her mouth, the noises she made, the feel of their bodies pressed against each other, all combined to form an intoxicating concoction that the human had never experienced before. She felt an almost embarrassing enthusiasm for the young doctor, and often had to check herself to keep her more base desires from running rampant, especially in inappropriate locations.

A whimper of protest slipped past her lips as Liara placed two hands on the human's chest and firmly pushed her away. "You need a shower, Commander." Her eyes flashed playfully.

Shepard blinked, dazed for a moment, before she grinned crookedly. "I thought you liked it when I got all sweaty, Doctor," she replied in a throaty tone, wrapping her arms around the asari's waist.

Liara gave a smile of her own, albeit a decidedly wicked one. She leaned in and brushed her lips against Shepard's ear, earning an involuntary shudder from the commander. "Only when I'm the one making you sweat," she murmured, trailing her hands down Shepard's sides until her fingers were teasing the at waistband of loose-fitting shorts.

And then she ducked and deftly spun out of Shepard's grasp.

The human groaned and staggered forward, stunned by the sudden loss of contact. All she could do was stare, slack-jawed, as Liara turned to leave. "I'll see you tonight, darling," she called over her shoulder, wearing that same infuriating grin and punctuating her exit with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

Shepard sent a longing look at the door to the cargo bay, before shaking her head and smiling in spite of herself. She ran a trembling hand through her hair, then shrugged on the heavy N7 sweatshirt. She was overcome by a familiar gnawing feeling in her chest, adding to the warm tension now in her abdomen, and reached into the pocket to pull out her battered N7 cigarette case. However, instead of finding that comforting whiff of tobacco when she opened the case, she was now met with several long, flat sticks of red gum. She shoved two pieces in her mouth, chewed ferociously for a few seconds, then tucked the wad between her cheek and lower gums. She sighed and leaned against the workbench as she waited for the craving to pass, reflecting dryly upon how she was completely and utterly wrapped around a certain asari's slender blue finger.

{Brace for evasive maneuvers!}

"What the fu -?"

Shepard's reply was choked off when the deck pitched beneath her as Joker sent the Normandy into a sharp turn. She stumbled, but quickly regained her footing when she felt a wrenching vibration tear through her ship. Panicked screaming came over the comm. Shepard spit out her gum and ran out of the bay.

The knee brace lay forgotten on the bench.

Liara knew she shouldn't have left Shepard. She just knew it, with the same certainty she could grasp all that was happening in the physical realm. Her rapid breathing, the thundering of her heart, the heavy thud of her boots on the deck even as it was disintegrating beneath her.

She fought her way to the escape pod, through the haze of thick smoke and the cries of her dying crewmates. She swallowed her panic and forced out her voice, ushering people into the escape pod. Just as Shepard wanted her to.

It wasn't right. She shouldn't be here. She should be with Shepard, at her side, hauling that smartass, uncooperative pilot out of his seat and into the nearest pod. Not down here as the commander recklessly ran towards more danger, leaving her to watch as their world burned before her eyes.

Another blast ripped through the ship, and Liara gripped the edge of the escape pod's hatch to steady herself. She gestured frantically at a crewman running towards the hatch, explosions on either side of her lighting up the young woman's face. Liara could see the terror reflected in the human's eyes, mirroring a look that had been on her own face so many times. Just as she was about to reach the hatch, a control console burst outward, spewing forth flame and molten metal right at the crewman. The force of the blast sent her flying through the air, and her head struck the bulkhead at a sickeningly perfect angle. There was a loud crunch, and the body slowly slid down the wall, coming to rest at Liara's feet.

Monica Negulesco, 1st Lieutenant, one of the CIC officers. Recently promoted, assigned to the Normandy after the battle at the Citadel. Liara recalled the pleasant lunch she had shared with Negulesco a few days prior, and how the human had crackled with enthusiasm at the opportunity to serve under The Great Commander Shepard. How she also seemed equally giddy to be speaking with the quiet, unassuming scientist that no one would believe held sway over the galaxy's newest hero. And at the end of the meal, when Negulesco had pulled a small holo out of her pocket and showed Liara the image of a stunning asari, beaming at the camera, and shyly explained that in six months she would be a father.

And how later that evening, Liara had curled up next to Shepard and dreamt of a child with dark, stormy eyes.

"Liara! Come on!"

Ashley stood just inside the hatch, waving at her desperately. Liara stepped inside the pod, and was immediately grasped by the insistent gunnery chief and shoved towards the nearest seat. She sat down heavily, and barely had time to strap on her restraints before Ashley slapped the launch controls, shooting the pod into the void

There was one small viewport in the pod, and Liara watched as the assembled crewman all craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the Normandy. Instead of mimicking their movements, however, she remained deathly still and focused instead on the bond she shared with the ship's commander. She reached out, focusing her energy so intensely her eyes nearly rolled black, until she finally felt Shepard. The connection was there, albeit a tentative one; more like a single strand of thread pulled dangerously taunt. Liara poured all she had into the tenuous link, desperately trying to strengthen it, even as it started slowly slipping away.

And then the thread snapped.

Liara lunged forward in her seat, straining against the straps of the restraints holding her down. Her stomach lurched violently, and she wrenched off her helmet, taking in huge gulps of air to stave off the rush of nausea overwhelming her. She buried her face in her hands as her entire body began trembling.

She felt a gentle weight on her shoulder, and looked up into Ashley's face. The human woman's brow furrowed, wordlessly asking a silent question that no one in the small pod would dare voice. All Liara could do was shake her head and fight against the tears that began stinging her eyes.